


Kingdom Come

by Meraki_Minnesota (orphan_account)



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Magical anon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-28
Updated: 2014-09-05
Packaged: 2018-02-15 04:19:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2215545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Meraki_Minnesota
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Medieval AU: In the land of Iacon and in a time of myth and magic, join our favorite characters in this gripping tale of adventure, secrets, love and medieval madness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. For the First Time in Forever

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers or Hasbro; any names or places you recognize belong to them. This story is based off the role-playing adventures of the following blogs on Tumblr:  
> -wily-red-galeforce-gold  
> -speakeasysniper  
> -pokerfacedpraxian  
> -primuswhyme  
> -one-shall-stand  
> -driftsetadrift  
> -paranoidsd  
> -daecus  
> -brilliantbombtech  
> -bluespitfire  
> -askbeachcomber and  
> -smoothgetaway  
> The story and its concepts are their creations, not mine, and I write this with their permission. If you want to take a look at the original posts, go take a look at their blogs! I recommend it.  
> And now...welcome to the Medieval Madness.

* * *

  _“It’s Coronation Day! It’s Coronation Day!” –_ **Princess Anna, _Frozen_**

* * *

 

 

_He dreamt of fire._

_The all consuming kind, the burning blaze that had no master and destroyed everything in its path. He dreamt that it burned down villages and consumed lives; he felt its heat against his armor and heard the agonized screams of those who died in its grasp._

_He was in the fire…no, no…that wasn’t correct._

_He_ was _the fire._

_He greedily consumed the dry tinder of the homes, the frames of the unlucky ones in his grasp, driven by an insatiable hunger…_

_“Carry on, my son. Burn it all to the ground, burn it for me…” The fire and shadows spoke to him and he found himself unable to resist the command. He didn’t want to stop feeding, to stop destroying…_

_Yes, he would burn it all, burn it to nothingness…_

“…Majesty? Your Majesty, are you awake yet? Prince Sideswipe, please answer me.”

_Who..?_

Slowly, the darkness of the dream dissolved and he began to resurface from the depths of recharge. Some part of him tried to cling to sleep, not wanting to wake up just yet, but awareness came back without his consent.

He vented deeply and forced an optic open. Almost immediately, he shut it with a growl and covered his face with his arms.

Someone had left the Primus-forsaken curtains open, letting in the full power of the morning sun. It had nearly burned out his optics, leaving large white spots on their tender backsides. He had no doubt as to who had left them open; it had to be his brother’s ‘wake-the-slag-up-before-I-make-you-wake-up’ reminder. He would have to find some way to get back at him.

But, right now, he just wanted to sleep, to fall back into the blessed oblivion and finish his recharge cycle out. To finish that dream, the dream he could only half recall…

Something about…hunger? Fire?

Yes…something like that…a command he couldn’t ignore…an insatiable hunger…

“Your Majesty, please tell me you’re awake.” The mildly annoyed voice from somewhere beyond the dream called, shattering the oblivion again.

Slaggit all.

“’f course ‘m awake,” he called out, forcing his vocalizer to spit the words out. “Course ‘m awake…” He was the epitome of awake right now. No one could possibly be more awake than he was at the moment…

“Your Majesty, it’s time to get ready. The King and the Crown Prince are waiting for you in the throne room and the entourages are will soon arrive.”

“The…who is waiting…for…?” he yawned loudly. He wiggled around in his berth but made no effort to get up.

“The King and the Crown Prince, Your Majesty.” When Sideswipe gave no indication of acknowledgement or understanding, there came a faint sigh. “Your Majesty, for the Tournament today…?”

Tournament…

_Tournament…_

His optics shot open with greater speed than he knew they were capable of, their gaze drawn to the corner of the room where the armory and dressing rooms for the two brothers resided. Gleaming red armor, his armor, basked in the light of the sun. Armor he would only get to wear once a year at the…

The Tournament!

A loud gasp escaped from his vocalizer as he was suddenly bolting from the berth towards the armor, his mind now wide awake from the adrenaline rush.

Today was the first day of the Tournament!

Oh Primus, _he had overslept_!

“I’m coming! I’m coming! Let them know I’ll be there!” He called out frantically. He let out a yelp when he nearly tripped over something at the foot of his berth. A mass of pillows in fort-style had been set up there, though most of it was now destroyed by his carelessness.

He frowned at it for a second before he dismissed it and raced for the armor. It must’ve been something one of the palace ghosts’ had created late last night to humor itself while he had slept. There seemed to be one in particular that enjoyed rearranging his personal items and hiding things from Sideswipe, though the prince didn’t know why.

But he’d have to worry about that later.

Today was the Tournament, and he wasn’t going to miss this for the world.

Suddenly alive with frantic energy, Sideswipe snagged the armor off its stand, noting the absence of his brother’s armor on the stand next to it. No doubt it was already on him. How he managed to wake up so early in the morning was beyond Sideswipe’s understanding, but maybe it was just one of those things that came when you were the Crown Prince.

The armor was donned as quickly as possible and then he was out the door, nearly running headfirst into the servant who had woken him and passing servants that had been walking nearby with preparatory items for the Tournament. Narrowly dodging them, he called out apologizes as he dashed down the hallways at a very non-prince-like speed. Oh man, how could he have slept in on a day like this?!

He slid down the banisters of the stairways for extra speed and time, ignoring the cries and grumblings of the palace servants as he did so. Why they still fussed about it when he did it nearly every day was beyond him, but that wasn’t important right now. Oh Primus, he hoped his father wouldn’t be angry about this…it wasn’t often that the King was angry or frustrated, but the Tournament was a big deal and there had been a lot of stress on him since Iacon was hosting…

And it was their first Tournament! They finally became of age just a short while ago at the age of one thousand and seventy vorns, something that had called for celebration. It had just about killed the princes waiting through the last two Tournaments for this one, but Optimus was adamant about it and they couldn’t change his mind.

Sideswipe finally slowed down to a respectable pace when he reached the tall and ornate doors of the throne room, though his heaving vents gave him away. There were more than a few pointed stares his direction when he came into the room, but he valiantly ignored them and walked in with his head held high and his struts straight. Optimus, the King and his father, sat on one of the two thrones in the room, watching his son with unreadable sapphire optics. Sunstreaker, on the other hand, was more obvious as he pinned his twin with a lavender glare.

“Forgive me, Father,” Sideswipe said, kneeling before his father humbly and trying to ignore the guilt in his spark. “I was…ah, _detained_ , on my way here. I apologize for my late appearance.”

“Understood,” the King said. Now that he was closer, Sideswipe caught a hint of mirth behind the seriousness in his optics. The King knew the real reason why Sideswipe had been “detained” but did not comment on it, though Sideswipe knew he would get a talking-to later. “We are glad that you are here with us now. There are a few duties I need you and your brother to attend to today before the start of the Tournament to ensure all will go well. Will you complete them for me?”

“Of course, Father.” He said. He had yet to refuse a request from the King and his guilt for being late made it impossible to say ‘no’.

“Thank you, Sideswipe.” Optimus said. Sideswipe respectfully bowed his head again before he stood to join his golden twin. On his way there, however, a touch from Optimus’ hand stopped him.

“Are you excited for today?” The King asked quietly, meant solely for his son to hear. With his facemask in place, it was impossible to see if he was smiling or not, but Sideswipe could hear it in Optimus’ voice.

Sideswipe grinned. “Extremely.” He said just as quietly.

“Good. I know you will do well, both you and your brother.” The hand was removed and the King turned his attention back to the nobles of his court, allowing his son to join his brother.

“‘Detained’, huh?” Sunstreaker muttered low under his breath once Sideswipe settled in next to him. “I told you to get to bed earlier. Father had to send someone to wake you. You will need to apologize later.”

“For your information,” he retorted in a matter-of-fact-voice. “I have been awake and ready for hours.”

Sunstreaker rolled his optics. “And that is why your armor is half off, correct?”

Sideswipe glanced down at himself. Primus, he was right. He hadn’t locked one of the hinges well enough on his left shoulder and the armor was hanging loosely. That probably explained the scandalized looks of some of the maids and servants as he went running by or the looks from the nobles and officials in the room.

“Of course.” he said, trying to keep his dignity about him. His brother sighed heavily and reached over to fix the armor with nimble, graceful hands.

“Where is your cape, then?”

 _Slaggit_.

He jutted his chin out, refusing to meet his twin’s gaze. “…in the armory.” He finally said. His ceremonial cape, identical to the dark blue one that was strapped to Sunstreaker’s armor, hadn’t been pulled out last night with the rest of the outfit. Sunstreaker had reminded him to do so, but in his excitement…it appeared he forgot. And Sunstreaker knew as much, judging from the barely-there smirk he was giving him. Sideswipe dutifully ignored it.

“We can send a servant to fetch it,” a new voice, one that the twins knew well, spoke. The chief court physician and master healer, Ratchet, joined the princes and was giving the red prince a look over. “You still have a little time before you have to welcome the entourages and be official.”

“When will they be here?” Sideswipe asked. He knew that none of them would be here this early in the morning with maybe the exception of the flying Vosians and the fast-footed Ibexians.

“Not until later in the afternoon.” Sunstreaker answered. “All of them should be here by the opening feast later tonight.”

“And I know what entourage you can’t wait to see!” Sideswipe said in a sing-song voice, waggling his optic ridges at his brother. Sunstreaker frowned.

“I don’t know what you’re-”

“~Hmmm…a feast…~”

The lazy mumble caught their attention; down near their feet, a small dragon stretched out near the second empty throne. A bright shade of blue, the small dragon gazed up at them with partially glazed-over optics. “~Lots of delicious food. I do hope the King brings me something to eat…~” A brightly colored plume of smoke drifted from his nostrils upwards and Sideswipe got a waft of something that smelled suspiciously like the illegal drug Syk.

“Greetings, Beachcomber.” Sideswipe grinned at the little dragon. “Are you excited for the Tournament?” He reached down and scratched the mechanical dragon behind his head fins, earning a contented rumble from the palace pet.

“~Hmmm…you ask a difficult question~” Beachcomber said. “~One enjoys a fire for warmth, but when there is too much, it is not enjoyable~” He huffed, sending more funny-smelling smoke out. Yep, that was definitely Syk. That explained the glazed look in his optics. “~I believe that I will be keeping the throne warm for the King in his absence…crowds are not a favorite of mine…but how I would love to join the feast…~”

“Then I’ll have to sneak some food for you out of the kitchens so you don’t starve.” The prince promised. Maybe he could grab some breakfast too while he was down there, assuming he would have enough time to do so…

“~It would be much appreciated, Your Majesty…much appreciated…~” The dragon sighed contentedly. “~Do enjoy the Tournament for me. I hope all goes well for you both, Majesties…~” And with that, the dragon turned and disappeared under the King’s throne, most likely to sleep.

Lucky slagger. Sideswipe wanted to join him, but he knew that it wouldn’t be ‘proper’ for a prince to do that. He wouldn’t fit under the throne either; he hadn’t been that small in a long time.

Ratchet grumbled something about “baking his processor to bits” under his breath as he watched the dragon slither away. “Don’t either of you ever try Syk. If I find out you have, I’m reformatting you into a carriage and that is that.”

“Aw, you take all the fun out of life, Ratchet.” Sideswipe retorted, grinning at Ratchet’s growing frown and ignoring Sunstreaker’s. “Does this mean I can’t drink high grade this week or will our esteemed healer send me to the Pits?”

“That one I don’t particularly care about, so long as you don’t make a fool of yourself or start a war.” He said. “Speaking of making a fool out of yourself-”

“Hey!”

“-I expect to see you before you participate in the Tournament. You have not had your medical examination yet.”

“Must I?” Sideswipe groaned. Examinations were itchy and took time to complete, and he actively avoided them whenever he could.

“Yes, because if you don’t, I will withhold you from the Tournament and you’ll watch from the sidelines. And your father will have to concede to my medical opinion.” The medic threatened, his smile growing when the prince’s disappeared.

“He’s got you there.” His brother added helpfully, earning him a glare from Sideswipe.

“Fine, I’ll find you before the start of my event and you can do your examination.” The prince grumbled.

The medic smirked before turning to leave. “Good luck to the both of you. You’ll do well.”

* * *

 The palace of Iacon was truly a sight to behold. The ancient home for all mechs and femmes on Cybertron, it was the supposed place where the first king Prima had risen and united all Cybertronians under his power. Those who ruled in Iacon, by extension, were believed to be the heirs of Prima himself.

The legends the minstrels and bards sang of said that Prima was the eldest of thirteen powerful Cybertronians who led them in battle against the first Lich King, Unicron. Once the King had been banished for all time from Cybertron, each brother or sister claimed a part of the land for their descendants and settled down. From them came the thirteen kingdoms of Cybertron and their royal houses.

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe had been given numerous history lessons about nearly every section of the palace. Each reign, the ruling monarch added a section to the palace, and thousands of vorns of ruling Primes had resulted in a large and somewhat-complicated home to navigate. The newest addition, created by Optimus’ father Sentinel Prime and his sparkmate Whitespark, was a large addition to the Great Library.

Normally, large sections of the palace wouldn’t be used in daily life and were left largely untouched. During events like a Tournament, however, all doors and gates except a few were opened up so that the visiting royalty could enjoy the full splendor of the palace.

The servants had decorated extensively in preparation for the Tournament; Sideswipe had been privy to the conversations of said servants and knew they had been preparing for this all vorn. And it wasn’t hard to see the huge amounts of effort put into it as he and Sunstreaker walked down the halls.

Large banners hung throughout the interior, emblazoned with the heraldic symbol and colors of the House of Iacon. He knew that it would only get more colorful once they entered the field where the other entourages were staying. Nearly every tent would have a coat of arms; the general symbols of each province, the specific ones of each house and bot…it was going to be a sea of crazy colors and patterns. And he had no doubt that Sunstreaker would end up painting it when he had spare time.

They would check on the southern fields and the arena later; right now, the twins and their ever present guards were heading for one of Sideswipe’s favorite places in the palace. The Kitchens.

Large and perpetually warm from the heat of cooking and preparing food, the kitchens were one of Sideswipe’s favorite places to hide from his tutors when he was supposed to be learning his lessons. The cooks were kind, giving him a few of his favorite treats and talking with him, though if he lingered too long, they would put him to work.

With so many visiting royalty and all of their caravans coming, the kitchens had been a flurry of activity and controlled chaos in order to create all the food necessary to feed everyone. No one envied their job; they would be busy every moment up until the end of the Tournament.

Sideswipe’s tanks churned in distress once they drew near enough for the smells of a thousand meals to waft their way. For the first time since he woke up, the realization he hadn’t eaten yet crossed his mind. He held back a moan.

“Did you choose this one first on purpose?” He hissed at Sunstreaker.

“No.” His tone of voice said otherwise. “The kitchens have a large responsibility and we need to ensure that they will be able to get it completed. But it is a pity you haven’t eaten yet. Perhaps if you had gotten up on time, you could’ve eaten.”

“You’re evil.” Sideswipe grumbled. His brother merely smiled in response.

A few of the servants running in and out of the kitchens paused long enough to bow and courtesy before continuing on their way, but most of the chefs and cooks were too busy cooking a thousand kinds of food to stop their endeavors.

He inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of all of that beautiful, delicious, _wonderful_ food. He spotted energon pastries of every kind, exotic candies made from the glowing food source and tanks full of high-grade waiting to be consumed. The processors were full of energon too, waiting to be transformed into something amazing and the scent of spices hung heavily in the air. Hydrogen infusion, arsenic flakes, sulfur additives…Sideswipe sighed wistfully as his tanks protested the lack of food. Primus, why did it all have to smell so _good_??

In the center of all of the insanity, a loud and booming voice could be heard calling out orders and correcting mistakes, directing the sea of activity so everything could get done.

Swerve was a lot shorter than most mechs and femmes, but the lack of height was made up for his boisterous and loud personality. As chief of the kitchens, he was constantly busy feeding Iacon’s inhabitants and her visitors, but Sideswipe had yet to see him really lose his smile or his cool. He liked the mech; he could make almost anyone smile, even Sunstreaker on a bad day, and would spend time with Sideswipe when he visited the kitchens.

One of the senior chefs caught sight of the two princes and leaned over to nudge Swerve, inclining his head towards them. Serve’s blue visor lit up when he spotted them and he said something to the chef before heading over in their direction.

“Your Majesties, good orn! What brings you to my humble abode?” Swerve called. The big smile on the chef’s face was impossible to not return; Sideswipe spotted Sunstreaker smiling a little too.

“Good orn, Swerve.” The Crown Prince greeted. “Is everything ready for the Tournament?”

“You had better believe it! Got every delicacy you could ever want here with some of the best cooks in the land, and,” he leaned forward, as if confiding a secret. “Maccadam’s brought his high grade. Specially reserved for the ending feast.” He jerked his helm towards a corner of the kitchen where the tanks of high grade sat. “There’s enough there to feed an army.”

“Oooh, high grade.” Sideswipe breathed. He and Sunstreaker had never had it, but now that they were finally old enough to participate in a Tournament, there was a chance that the King would let them have a taste of the forbidden drink. “Save a container for me, will you?”

Swerve laughed. “We’ll see what His Majesty says first, but I think I could possibly do that.” He looked at the prince. “Got a particular someone you want to share it with?”

“Nah, not particularly.” The prince replied, completely missing the hinting tone in Swerve’s words. “Unless Sunny feels like cutting loose and having a little fun.”

“You’re hilarious.” His twin retorted. Turning to Swerve, he spoke. “The King isn’t able to leave his duties to come see that everything is put together. If you would show us what you have prepared?”

“Certainly! Over here, we have the courses for the feast tonight. We’ve got some fresh Urayan mid-grade to start the feast out with…”

Sideswipe tried to pay attention, he really did. But as soon as they walked by a particularly fragrant set of energon pastries, his mind was effectively derailed. That food looked delicious, all soft and glowing and fragrant, and it would be so much better in his tanks than just sitting here…

One bite couldn’t hurt…right?

He had just about made up his mind when a voice cut through his thoughts and startled him.

“Didn’t get your breakfast this morning, Majesty?” An older femme, one of the servants in the kitchen that had been there since he was a child, was smiling at him from across the counter where she worked on the pastries.

“No.” he admitted, trying to not sound like he was whining. The pastries seemed to be calling his name. _Eat us, eat us please.._

“Here then,” the femme said and reached out to pluck a few pastries off a tray nearby. Her optics sparkled with mirth. “Eat these when you have a moment. We can’t have our prince collapsing of hunger today, after all.”

His optics lit up as he graciously accepted the treats. “Thank you.” He told her as he put all but one in his subspace. That one went into his mouth. “Your contribution is appreciated.” She laughed a little.

“I bet it is. We have to take care of our most loyal customer, even on Tournament days.” She let out a gusty sigh and stopped for a moment, rubbing her hands. “These old hands are having a hard time keeping up. I’m not quite as fast as some of the other kitchen hands, even with the medicine Ratchet has been giving me.”

“They are running you guys pretty hard.” Sideswipe reminded her. He had never seen so many cooks in one area; a few of them looked like they weren’t from around here either. He spotted a blue Vosian who he didn’t recognize arguing with a chef about something.

“There are a lot of mouths to feed.” She returned. “We’ll be busy all week trying to keep up. But I’m glad to be of use. Many can’t claim the same in my age.”

“You’re not that old.” He said. Sure, her frame wasn’t as bright and had a little wear on the edges, but she didn’t scream ‘old’ to him. Alpha Trion, on the other hand…

The femme laughed again.

“You are quite the flatterer, Your Majesty. I bet that silver tongue wins the sparks of many suitors.”

“It hasn’t yet.” It wasn’t that no one flirted with Sideswipe and he didn’t flirt back because he did, it was just…no one had interested him yet. Sunstreaker was the same way, but he had to deal with hopeful young nobles seeking his throne.

“Ah, but be patient. Perhaps you’ll find someone during the Tournament. Stranger things have happened.”

Sideswipe shrugged. “We will see. I think I will be more focused on winning the Tournament than winning a spark. There’s a lot of pressure on us since this is our first Tournament and the first time Father won’t be participating.”

Which meant that he and Sunstreaker would be Iacon’s representatives this vorn. Though neither had said anything about it to anyone, they were both quite nervous to represent their father and kingdom. What if they failed?

“…and we have several more arrivals of energon coming in within in the orn, so we’ll be plenty stocked for food in case it is necessary, but I believe that is it. Oh, Karmen! Entertaining His Majesty?” Swerve asked as he and Sunstreaker drew near them.

“We’re just discussing the Tournament.” Karmen told Swerve. Her hands continued working on pastries even as she focused on her company. “It’s not every day that you participate in your first Tournament.”

“This is true!” Swerve said, grinning. “What events are you participating in, Your Majesties? I haven’t had time to listen to the servants’ gossip with everything going on in here.”

“I’m participating in the lightweight weapons fighting and Sunstreaker is in the sword fighting event.” Sideswipe informed him. “Are you going to cheer us on, Swerve?”

The chef laughed. “None shall cheer louder than me, Your Majesty. And, if you win your Tournament, I might be able to set aside that high grade you asked for. Only if the King says so, of course.”

Sideswipe grinned. “You’ve got a deal.” Sunstreaker sighed and rolled his optics.

“Swerve!” One of the chefs called out, beckoning his superior over to help him with something. It looked like a large energon sculpture in the form of a dragon, though the head was having some difficulties and was falling apart at the neck. Energon covered the arms of the two kitchen aides helping him.

“Coming! By your pardon, Majesties…?” Swerve asked.

Sunstreaker nodded. “Everything appears to be in order and I will let Father know. Thank you for your time, Swerve.” Sideswipe echoed the statement. The chef smiled and bowed to both princes before heading back into the fray of food and bots.

“I shan’t take up anymore of your time, Majesties.” Karmen said after Swerve left. “There is much to be done by all of us, but I wish you luck in the Tournaments.” Pulling a pastry off a platter nearby, she handed it to Sunstreaker. “You have our support.”

“Thank you.” Sunstreaker said, accepting the pastry. Sideswipe grinned when he noticed it was one of Sunstreaker’s favorites, a Rodion energon blend with mercury and copper additives. They knew them too well.

“Well, the kitchens are all in order.” Sideswipe said as Karmen curtsied and left. “Where are we off to now?”

“The southern fields.” Sunstreaker responded, subspacing the pastry for later. “We need to ensure the arena is ready.”

Sideswipe grinned. “Then to the fields it is!” He proclaimed, turning to leave with dramatic flair that had his brother rolling his optics.

The nearer the two brothers and their guards drew to the field, the more the feeling of nervousness grew in their sparks. The “good luck, Majesties!” and “We’ll be rooting for you!” comments only increased the feeling.

“Do you think Father ever felt like purging in his first Tournament?” Sideswipe asked his twin as they approached the southern gate.

Sunstreaker frowned. They could feel each other’s nervousness and it was somewhat amplifying their own feelings. “I am not sure. It’s possible. We’ll have to ask him later today when we have a chance.”

“If we have a chance.” Sideswipe reminded him as they walked through the gates. Beyond the gate lay a large expanse of open land where the entourages would camp and the activities would be held in the center of it all. Since no one had yet arrived, it was easy to spot the large areas set aside for the activities.

There was one large arena set up for most of the activities, wide enough to comfortably sit a thousand or so mechs and femmes as they looked down on the arena. Off the top of his processor, Sideswipe knew that archery, jousting, mock war, foot racing, the magic competition and the weapons fighting would be taking place there. Several bands of the entertainers that had come from all over the land would be performing there as well when the festivities would come to an end each night. Maybe he’d get to see Jazz in a few joors. It had been awhile since he had seen the lively mech.

The high-ranking nobles sat comfortably in the middle, providing the best seats for the occupants. Each seat was comfortably cushioned and emblazoned with the stern and proud face that was Iacon’s symbol. The seat his father would sit on was more ornate and right in front to provide an easy view for him. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker would sit on the right side of their father, near the other Primes and rulers.

Glancing up around the box covering, Sideswipe could see one or two of the metal hoops standing high in the sky that had been set up for the Vosian activities. Since no other mechs or femmes from the other kingdoms could fly, the Vosians were the only ones who could participate but the others could enjoy the spectacle. Sideswipe had heard it was quite the sight watching a practiced Vosian fly and couldn’t wait to see the races.

He enjoyed the sights as Sunstreaker talked with the servants and workers to assure everything was set up correctly. No one wanted something to malfunction or go awry when the actual events were going on.

They then walked the area where the food stalls, vendors and children’s activities were to be set up, right around the arena itself. The merchants and tradesmechs would have the best chance their of selling their many wares to the mechs and femmes coming to watch the events. It was empty except for a few maypoles and other permanent children’s playthings were set up for them to play with. Sideswipe felt himself smile a little. He hadn’t seen maypoles in a long time, not since he and Sunstreaker were children. Memories of dancing in sunlight, weaving ribbons and eating stolen goodies from the kitchens came back, memories of him and Sunny and another dear friend of theirs, a Praxian they hadn’t seen in a long time…

“Prince Sideswipe!” A child’s cry caught his attention, stopping him in his tracks. A personal guard assigned to him stopped with him the instant he did, but he paid no attention to the mech.

A young red and orange femme with a yellow and black Praxian mech in tow came running towards the prince, stopping a few feet away when she spotted the guard and his piercing gaze. “Prince Sideswipe, Prince Sideswipe! Do you want to come play? We’re going to play on the maypole!”

Sure enough, a few of the palace children had gathered near one of the maypoles farther away and were beginning to weave the ribbons together. Some of the younglings were having issues but the others were helping them get the pattern down.

“Playing on the maypole? Sounds like fun.” He was so tempted to say yes. He was a little big to be playing that, but that didn’t mean he didn’t enjoy it. And they were looking at him so hopefully…

“ _Announcing the arrival of the entourage of Ibex from the north!_ ”

The cry of the mechs standing watch in the highest towers of the palace caught their attention. It was quite faint, since they were so far out in the field, but discernible nonetheless.

“They’re here already? Wow.” Sideswipe mumbled. A glance upwards revealed that the sun was not far from reaching her highest point in the sky at noonday.

“Sideswipe! We need to get going!” His brother called. Sideswipe sighed deeply.

“Sorry kids, not today. We have to go get ready for the festival.” He apologized, hating the way his spark hurt when their expressions fell. Reaching into his subspace, he handed them two of his pastries. “But before the festival ends, come find me and we’ll play. Sound fair?”

“Definitely!” The femme cried. “Bye, Prince Sideswipe! Have fun!” And with that, they were gone towards the maypole. It wasn’t until Sideswipe was almost back to the palace that he realized he hadn’t gotten their names.

“We had best be getting back.” Sunstreaker said. Though outwardly calm, Sideswipe could feel a hint of nervousness seep into their bond. “Father will want us to be there with him when the entourages arrive.”

His mouth suddenly dry, Sideswipe could only nod and straighten his spinal struts in response.

It was show time.


	2. The Dark Lands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Medieval AU: In the land of Iacon and in a time of myth and magic, join our favorite characters in this gripping tale of adventure, secrets, love and medieval madness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Again, I do not own Transformers or Hasbro; any names or places you recognize belong to them. This story is based off the role-playing adventures of the following blogs on Tumblr:  
> -wily-red-galeforce-gold  
> -speakeasysniper  
> -pokerfacedpraxian  
> -primuswhyme  
> -one-shall-stand  
> -driftsetadrift  
> -paranoidsd  
> -daecus  
> -brilliantbombtech  
> -bluespitfire  
> -askbeachcomber and  
> -smoothgetaway  
> I am also adding a new roleplayer to the list, betterthanmegatron, because her blog is totally worth checking out (even if she wasn't involved in the Medieval roleplay).  
> The story and its concepts are their creations, not mine, and I write this with their permission. If you want to take a look at the original posts, go take a look at their blogs! I recommend it.  
> And now...welcome to the Medieval Madness.

* * *

_“But the years of peace and plenty were not to last. Slowly the days turned sour and the watchful nights closed in. Thrór's love of gold had grown too fierce and sickness had begun to grow within him. It was a sickness of the mind. And where sickness thrives, bad things will follow...”_ – ** _the Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey_**

* * *

 

 

_-Several orns before the start of the Tournament-_

The beginning of the end had come slowly for them.

Now, in hindsight, the villagers could see the early warnings of tragedy and desolation that had led to their fate. The animals fleeing, the strange wind blowing from the ruined village, the failure of the crops…but no one knew then. Few understood what festered in the old village to the west, and those who did didn’t wish to speak of old demons and mistakes of the past. To speak of a demon was to give that demon power, and no one wished to give it strength.

A blind optic was turned on the haunted town while the villagers tried to find ways to survive the failure of the crops for a third time in a row. The tradesmechs that came through the rural town weren’t enough to get them through till the next harvest…if that next harvest ever came.

It broke the village elder’s spark to see the under-nourished frames of the younglings and sparklings of the town and the haunted looks of their creators as they tried to find energon for them. He and his bonded did what they could, giving out what energon they had and helping those with whatever they could do. Along with the poor harvests, a bout of powerful magnetic winds and acid rain had destroyed much of the town’s infrastructure and left the homes open and vulnerable to the elements.

A perpetual mist began to rise up out of the ruined village, one that crawled out of the village with grasping tendrils towards the new village as if to pull it into its grasp. Passing tradesmechs began to speak about shadows that danced in the mists and a perpetual haunting wail that could be heard.

“Something dark lurks there,” One mech said late one night in the local tavern. Along with his comrades were villagers who had joined to listen to the stories and gossip. “Terrible shadows…we could see them in the mists, always watching us as we got closer to the town.”

“Aye, it whispered terrible things to us. Promises of riches, healing the sick, power beyond your wildest imagination.” A femme confided, her voice low. She took a drink of her high-grade. She was just intoxicated enough to loosen her tongue. “It promised me the return of my son from the Well if I would just come closer.”

“It promised me my own castle and servants if I would enter the town premise.” Another tradesmech said. This statement was joined in by several murmurs and nods from his companions. They too had heard promises of wealth and power.

“Whatever lies in those ruins,” the caravan leader said, his deep voice easily heard above the din of the tavern. “Is unnatural and cursed. Primus has no power in that forsaken place.” He did not voice what temptations he had heard, the promise of his beloved sparkmate from the dead and her voice calling to him, and did not show how badly it had shaken him. “We will leave this place when morning comes.”

These rumors traveled among the villagers like wildfire, heightening the already tense atmosphere of the town. It wasn’t long before the oldest villagers came to the elder and his bonded to voice their own concerns, ones they dare not say in public and only in the safety of the elder’s home.

“Downshift, we cannot ignore these rumors.” One of the mechs said to the elder, his voice solemn, when they had all settled in. Murmurs of agreement echoed his statement.

“The village has been devoid of activity for hundreds of vorns. Why are strange things happening _now_?” A slender turquoise femme asked, her gravelly voice tight with concern and fear.

“The specters in the mist…do you think it is his servants? Do you think he still commands them?” A red mech next to the femme asked. A patch covered one of his optics, though a few scars peaked out from underneath it across his faceplates.

“But it cannot be him!” A femme protested before Downshift could speak. She wrung her tiny hands in nervousness, her voice shrill with fear. “He was killed! They put a sword through his spark! No one could survive that!” One of her friends leaned over to try and offer comfort to the minicon, whispering soothing words as she shook.

“High Wire speaks the truth. He was killed, or have we all forgotten?” A mech growled. His tall form could barely fit in the room and he glared at his companions as he spoke.

“But what else could haunt the old village, Grindor? There was no one who had greater power than him, and he knew it!” An older femme huffed, returning Grindor’s glare. “Evil is not constrained by the normal laws of life. It is possible he survived by unnatural means.” (High Wire shrilled loudly in fear.)

Several of the older villages spoke up, either in protest or agreement or voicing their own opinion, before one of them silenced them all to speak with a harsh shout. “How do we even know that this is true? Perhaps the caravan was simply telling stories to inspire fear!”

“Because I have seen it with my own optics,” Downshift finally said, speaking for the first time. Dead silence accompanied his statement. “After these rumors reached my audios, I went to the village myself to see if this was true.” He lowered his voice. “In the mists of our old home, shadows and specters dance and call for bots to enter. Even from the distance, I could hear their words and feel their call. I heard the voices of my family and the friends we lost calling to me. They wanted me to enter, to join them.”

“Primus.” one of the mechs whispered into the silence. His bonded reached for him, her optics wide with fear, and pressed her faceplates against him as if she could block the terrible news out.

“Downshift, you don’t think it is him…?” The elder’s bonded asked him. Her worn armor, now a dull red, creaked a little as she interlaced her fingers with his. “That he…I mean…is it possible that it’s just a passing evil…?”

“No.” He said. “I wish I could say that it _isn’t_ him, Oval…but in the deepest part of my spark, I know that is not true. The feelings I got when I approached the town…it was just like before. I believe he has returned.”

No one spoke for a long moment as horror and dread worked through the sparks of all present. Memories of long ago, when most of the adults now had been sparklings, were beginning to come back. Memories of death, of destruction and chaos and one terrible battle that had destroyed everything they had held dear.

“…what will we do?” One mech finally asked, his voice small as he spoke into the silence. “What must we do to stop him? To prevent history from repeating itself?”

“We will not be able to stop him on our own.” Downshift told them. “He will not so easily be banished from his realm. Great magical power will be required, power we do not have.”

“Then what will we do?” Oval asked. “What can be done to rid the land of his presence?”

Downshift sighed. “I must go to the nobles and alert them of this problem. Their court magicians can aid us in banishing this shadow.” He tightened his grip around her servo in a comforting gesture. “It is the only thing I can think of.”

“If that is what must be done,” she whispered. “If you must leave.” Downshift did not say anything again, but pressed his love and emotions through their bond even as her despair and fear washed into his spark.

“I will go with you,” one of the mechs said. The older femme who had spoken up earlier nodded in agreement. “It is not wise to go alone.”

A few others agreed before the impromptu meeting was adjourned. The seven femmes and mechs going to the nobles left to prepare while the others went to either help or spread the news.

Going to the nobles to the south, however, proved fruitless. Their mages and seers saw no such shadow in the land, they told the villagers when they had come to them, and they were supremely confident in their people’s magical abilities. When one of the mechs asked for them to come out and see the ruined village and its resident shade, they refused. They were too busy to bother with such things, though Downshift got the sense that the nobles did not want to believe that the shadows of the past were returning. They too had suffered his wrath, and they were not eager to accept his possible return.

They returned with heavy sparks, unsure of how to deliver the news to their friends and loved ones. But their bad news was met with even worse news.

While in their absence, some of the youth in the village had dared each other into entering the ruined village as entertainment. The town discovered their absence after a femme from the group had come running back, wailing and crying about how those who had wandered in had been attacked by the shadows and disappeared.

Others had gone to the ruins to try and find their younglings, but they never returned as well. Downshift finally announced that no one would set foot in the Ruined Village so that no more would vanish in their efforts to stop the strange shadow and warned all those who came through their town to do the same.

Most of the visitors laughed when he warned them away from the ruins. “A shadow?” they scoffed. “We have not been afraid of shadows since we were younglings!” They took his warnings to be the effect of a frenzied mind and decided to enjoy their high grade instead in the tavern.

His warnings were finally taken seriously when several younglings of a wandering dancing troupe had wandered into the town, taking the elder’s warnings as a challenge like the youth of the town before them. By the time morning came, they had disappeared into the ruins and were never heard from again.

After the troupe left, no one else had come into the town save a few who absolutely had to. They never stayed long and would leave as quickly as possible.

And all the while, the shadow grew.

The worst was when the sickness and death began to run rampant. Already weak from the lack of food, sickness quickly began claiming lives until few remained behind, clinging to whatever existence they could find on the face of the land. The town healer was baffled by the ferocity and severity of the sicknesses and could do little to curb its effects or the pain.

Their pleas to the nobles continued to be ignored, politely so at first but then blatantly so. They were met with the same message as last time; the mages saw nothing and sensed no evil activity. They were too busy keeping rebellions and the possibly of a war between each other under control to come investigate a shadow from the past. The nearby towns were unable to offer aid or move them due to their own issues and a there was fear that the shadow might follow them if they aided the starving villagers.

Downshift and Oval tried to console those who suffered as much as possible. They did everything they could to try and heal the sickest among them and fed the starving younglings with whatever energon could be found. Sometimes, to lighten sparks, Downshift would tell stories of better times.

But in the darkness of the night, when it was just him and Oval in the quiet of their dwelling, despair would rush into his spark and he would worry endlessly for the fate of those under his care. He could feel it echoed through their bond, and they would cling to each other for support.

It was his fervent prayer to Primus, if He was listening, that someone would be able to help them. Before it was too late.

* * *

It had all happened so quickly.

It felt like the entire war had happened in the blink of an optic. One moment, he had been entertaining his king in a sword fighting tournament and laughing with the other swordsmechs, the next he was waking up in the rubble of his home city. He remembered…fire. A fire that had burned wild and viciously all around him, consuming and destroying with no mercy. Nothing he could do would stop the fire or save those caught in its grasp; it just kept going and going, fueled by an insatiable hunger.

He had contended with the enemy soldiers that had lit the blaze, fighting to reach his castle and king to keep him safe. Somewhere during the fighting, however, he must have been knocked out. Yes…a building had fallen on him. It had buried him completely. Perhaps that was the only reason he survived the soldiers and the burning blaze.

He dug for what felt like joors, trying to escape the dark cocoon of the building that had fallen on him. But finally, sunlight broke through and he pushed through to the surface, grateful to finally be free.

His gratitude vanished when his optics took in what was all around him.

No building remained standing save for charred foundations and ruined piles of what used to be homes. Grayed frames littered the ground, frames he had known and come to love. It was too much to take in and he could feel himself shaking violently and trying not to purge. This couldn’t be real. This had to be a nightmare.

This couldn’t have happened.

The worst was when he stumbled into the palace, searching for his king and his companions.

He found them, his king with a sword through his chassis on his throne and the fallen frames of his bodyguards and friends all around him. Drift had collapsed at the foot of the steps and wept, unable to handle the crashing realizations that were threatening to consume him.

He was alone.

He didn’t know how long he had sat there, trying to deal with the death of everyone he knew and loved, or even what got him to get up and leave. He simply moved, one foot in front of the other, until he was far from his home and came to his senses.

He was a wanderer now, a swordsmech without a master, a mech without a king.

High grade helped take the edge off, and taverns quickly became a place of refuge and a way to get away from the pain. Directionless and purposeless, he simply drank the time away. But in the fading light of taverns along his wanderings, he had come across rumors of a powerful king in a land to the south of his own. Strong but fair and just, he aided those who needed it and was rumored to be the descendant of Prima himself. As he listened to the exploits of the king, an idea grew in his mind.

He would find this king and beg his service.

A new purpose now his spark, he followed the road down to the south of his kingdom and beyond the mountains, where he knew other kingdoms existed. It was very far from his home and the better part of the vorn was spent journeying towards this kingdom. He stopped frequently to aid those he could, protecting villages or offering service to struggling farmers. It wasn’t much, but it was all he could do for them.

This time, when he had stopped to offer aid, he got the sense that he was way in over his head.

Drift hadn’t known what to make of the tiny, miserable town when he had passed through it on his journey. He had been shocked to see the frighteningly thin and weak frames of the villagers and the beaten, weathered look of the town when he came in. This place looked like it was barely clinging to existence on the face of the land. A malevolent feeling clung to the town, heightening his senses and prompting him to keep his swords close. The fearful glances and poisonous glares sent his way hadn’t helped much either when he tried to ask if they needed help.

Something evil dwelt here.

But when he came across this struggling town with a merchant troupe, he knew he couldn’t resist helping them. Not when so many were in such a destitute situation. It reminded him too much of his own origins, and he understood firsthand what the aid of another could do to lift sparks.

“Oh!” Drift’s head snapped up, razor-sharp optics immediately spotting the source of the noise. A passing femme, too weak to keep walking judging from her frame, had fallen in the streets, spilling a few small, precious energon cubes into the street.

“Ma’am? Are you alright?” He called. Behind her were two children that clung to her like shadows, watching him cautiously as he approached. “Ma’am?”

“No! No, get away!” She cried, swinging an arm at him to keep him back. The other gathered the cubes back to her. Though her tone was biting and angry, her optics were fearful and her posture protective of her brood. “Leave us alone!”

“Ma’am, please, do you need-?” Drift tried to ask, but she yelled a final “Go away!” before she grabbed one of the children with her free arm and disappeared down one of the alleys nearby. He stood still for a moment, trying to process what happened, before he shook himself out of it and ignored the wary looks that followed him.

_Well, that was…odd._

“Don’t be angry them,” a voice called out to him. Drift straightened in surprise and saw the speaker standing near the local tavern, the _Lost Light_. It was an older mech, quite old if his graying armor and walking cane was any indication of his age. “They are afraid, and fear can cause people to do terrible things.”

“Will she be okay?” Drift asked, glancing in the direction of the femme. The older mech’s optics were sunken and hollow, like the optics of the femme and youth he had just seen. He had seen that look before, the look of desolation and hopelessness. Once upon a time, that look had been in _his_ optics.

The mech sighed. “I wish I could assure you she would be, but none of us will be okay.” He eyed Drift, taking in the bright white and red coloring of his armor and the powerful swords strapped to his frame. “Why are you here, stranger? What brings you to such a forlorn place?”

“The troupe I was traveling with has stopped here to rest. I met them along the roads and came with them.” He told the elder. “I have been wandering in search of a king since the…since the destruction of my home.” He fought to keep his tone from wavering.

The elder’s optics softened. “The loss of one’s home…it is a terrible burden to endure.” He said softly. “I have known it’s loss and it is not a fate I wish upon anyone. Have you no kin or friends with you?”

Drift shook his head. “None. They all perished.” He all but whispered. “I am alone.”

And what a terrible existence it was.

“Where was your home?”

Drift glanced at the elder, surprised at the question. The mech gazed at the swordsmech with unwavering and sympathetic optics. “It…it was far to the north of here.” He managed to say. “Beyond the Manganese Mountains and the Sea of Light.”

The elder smiled. “I cannot say I have been that far north, but I have been to the Mountains once or twice when I was young. Mostly to go dragon hunting. But I didn’t know there was a kingdom beyond the Sea of Light.”

Drift faintly returned the smile. On his way here, he had had the misfortune to come across one of the more violent dragon breeds, the Horned Northern Cyclonus, and had earned a few scratches from the scuffle. To be fair though, he had tread nearer to its nest than it wanted and he should have. “Not many do, apparently. This seems to be the farthest edge of this kingdom.”

The smile disappeared from the mech’s faceplates. “Yes, we are on the very edge of the Thirteen Kingdoms.” He said. “Often, we are so far away that few can aid us when disaster befalls us. Like now.”

“What kind of disaster?” Drift inquired. “What has befallen this place? War? Plague?”

The elder let out a harsh laugh, devoid of mirth. “Nothing so simple, wanderer. Something evil haunts this place, a shadow from the past that seeps our life away.”

Drift blinked, taken back. “A shade haunts this land?” He asked. The perpetual feeling of evil and oppression now made sense. If something wicked haunted the land…

The mech nodded solemnly. “Yes. Do you believe in shades and specters, wanderer?”

“I know of their reality. I have seen many great evils in my wanderings, not all of them from this realm.” He answered. “I am not a magic user, but I am sensitive and have fought magical evils before.” This was true; the magicians of his former court had taught him to hone his senses so he could not be caught unaware by things he could not see. His Great Sword had been endowed with great mystical powers and he had a series of magical protections laid over him for his defense, though now that their creator was dead, they were slowly weakening.

The mech raised his optic ridges, impressed to hear this strange mech had fought magical evils. “Truly? Feats like that are rare to hear about.”

Drift shook his head. “It was nothing great, I assure you. I had the aid of my companions and our magicians in defeating such evils.”

The elder did not say anything for some time, intently studying the white and red mech before him. “Do you wish to know how this shadow came to be?”

Drift looked at him in surprise but nodded.

“Then come. Let me tell you the sad tale of what became of our home.”

* * *

“What’s happening here began several vorns ago, before most of the young adults of today were born and in these very lands itself.” The elder, who had told him his name was Downshift, said. The two mechs were settling into the downstairs of Downshift’s home, away from the listening audios of others. “The North has always kept to itself, separate from the southern lands. The nobles here are very proud of this, but a few do socialize with the southern royalty, like Lord Mirage. So when the evil that now festers here began to grow, no one knew what it could become and didn’t bother to seek aid. It wasn’t until it was too late that they called for help.” He paused, looking away from the window to meet Drift’s optics. “You know what a Lich King is, yes?”

Drift frowned thoughtfully. The name sounded familiar… “My people know them as Shade Kings or Witch Lords, but they are undead kings in search of great power, are they not?”

He nodded. “Yes. They are known by many names, but are the same. Power-hungry magical rulers who corrupt their own sparks with darkness in order to become immortal. They are very dangerous, but thankfully, few in number. It is difficult to become such an evil.”

“Is that what befell this land?” Drift asked in surprise. He would not have guessed such a terrible evil resided here. A warlock at most, perhaps, but.. “A Lich King?”

“Yes.” That one word was spoken with great exhaustion, and Drift saw the faraway look in Downshift’s optics. “The Lich King rose to power here, in that old village, and summoned great and terrible evils into the world by taking the sparks of those who were his friends and companions to give them form.”

Drift’s optics widened. Murdering his townsfolk and companions…the thought made him sick, especially after the loss of everyone he knew. How could he have done such a thing? “And that old village…it was your home?”

Downshift nodded. “It was, when I was a youth. I was there when he became the Lich King, and I with the elders fled the village to the nobles just in time.” He touched his chassis and Drift spotted old, silvery scars across its surface. They looked suspiciously like…claw marks, as if someone had been trying to rip his chassis open. “But we couldn’t escape him… With his army of the undead and living, he conquered the old nobility of this land and became a lord. But it was not good enough for him; soon, his unstoppable armies moved against the Kingdom of Rodion near here. He slaughtered the King and Queen and seized the throne, becoming a king. It was only sheer luck that prevented their heir, Rodimus, from befalling the same fate.”

The sick feeling grew in Drift’s tanks. The death of their rulers…the Lich King truly had to have been powerful to attempt and pull off such a feat. Memories of his own king, murdered on his throne, danced through his processor.

“It was then that the severity of what happened became apparent.” Downshift continued, his voice hollow. “The other kingdoms began to mount a defense against Rodion and to stop the Lich King. I…” He shook his head in confusion. “We are not sure of all of the details, even now. For the better part of a vorn and a half, Rodion was unassailable, even against the Council of Mages and all of their power. So many died…soldiers, innocents, even the royalty that fought against him. But…something…somewhere finally gave. The southern armies were able to get into Rodion and force the Lich King off of the throne. He fled back to his old home, where his power was strongest, and made his last stand there.

“One of the monarchs that had been fighting against him pursued him relentlessly, and reached him not long after he got to the old village. A terrible battle ensued, a battle with the likes I’ve never seen before… but the Lich King was finally defeated.” He sighed heavily. “Though it was at great cost. The queen who fought against him succumbed to her wounds not long after the battle’s end. The village grounds were tainted and we were unable to return home, so we settled a new town nearby to raise our youth.”

“And what became of the Lich King?”

“We believed that his scourge had been removed from the world, but we were wrong. His spark was somehow tethered to this world and he became the shade that haunts the old village.” Downshift sighed.

“And he is what is causing all of…this.” Drift murmured, mostly to himself. “Why do you not flee? You would surely die if you stayed here.”

“Where would we go, wanderer?” Downshift asked, his voice heavy with exhaustion. “We have asked for aid, but none will give it. The nobles do not wish to acknowledge the Lich King’s return and refuse to recognize our plights. Those nearby are afraid and do not have the resources to help.”

Drift paused, thinking it over. Perhaps there was one thing that he could do to help them…he _had_ fought shades in the past before…and his Great Sword was designed to fight and defeat such enemies. “…what if I went to stop him?”

Downshift jerked in surprise, optics wide. “If you…?” He shook his head, disbelieving. “I cannot allow it, wanderer. You would never return from the village.”

“I have fought shades in the past.” He pressed, undeterred. “And I have lived to tell the tale. Please, allow me to help you. I cannot restore the crops or cure the illnesses in the village, but at least allow me to try and stop this shade.”

There was a long, heavy moment of silence as Downshift and Drift stared at each other, one lost in thought and the other waiting. Then the elder exhaled heavily, looking very tired all of a sudden. “If you so wish.” He conceded.

* * *

It wasn’t hard to find the ruined village where the shade resided; the directions were clear, and Drift’s senses could easily pick up the malevolent energies coming from the building. They were screaming at him to turn the other way, but he ignored them and pressed forward, wary and watchful.

It was about the size and shape of the other village, though a perpetual mist clung to it and blocked out the sun. It was utterly devoid of all life and sound except a faint wailing and the sound of agonized whispers.

Drawing his Great Sword and enjoying the protective hum of power that came from it, Drift advanced cautiously into the haze that came before him. It wasn’t long before he was lost in its clutches, unable to see more than a few feet in front of him in any direction, even with his warrior senses. The faint sounds of laughter trickled to his audios.

 _I am not afraid of you, Shade,_ he thought to himself, gripping his sword harder. Almost instinctively, he began to utter an incantation to Primus under his breath, one that spoke of protection and the power of light. When he had been brought into the royal court, he had been trained in the religion of the king and was now a firm believer. Sometimes, before he went into battle, he would paint sacred glyphs on his swords and armor for protection.

He couldn’t say with perfect confidence that it was doing something, but it seemed that the mists curled away from him as he spoke the ancient, sacred words.

“ _…Drift…_ ”

His frame and spark suddenly froze. That voice, it couldn’t be…

He was…

“ _…it truly has been some time. Why are you so far from home?”_

The mists shifted, changing and warping until Drift stood before his former king, his optics boring into the wandering knight. “ _Why weren’t you there when we perished?_ ” Though the ghostly tone never wavered, the words felt like judgment.

 _This can’t be real,_ Drift’s mind screamed at him. _He’s dead._ He had been there, he had seen his frame nailed to the throne…

And yet…

“ _Don’t remind him, Your Majesty._ ” Another voice sent Drift’s spark crashing into his chassis. “ _He now carries the burden of surviving alone. If he had joined us, he would have died too._ ” His mentor…the mech who had trained him…

“ _But he doesn’t have to be alone, Wing._ ” another voice pointed out, joining his king and his mentor’s forms in the mists. The king’s advisor. “ _He has a chance to join us now._ ”

“ _True. I hadn’t thought of that, Axe._ ” his mentor conceded, golden optics settling on his protégé. They reflected the same thoughtfulness and depth of knowledge Wing had possessed in life…

 _This isn’t real,_ the voice of reason in Drift’s mind insisted. _Think! They can’t be here! They’re dead!_

But…

It had been so long since he had seen their faces, heard their voices…

“ _Drift, you don’t have to be alone anymore._ ” His king said. Still shocked and frozen, Drift could only gape at the figures. “ _Come join us. Join your king._ ”

“ _It’s simple,_ ” Wing assured him. He was grinning. “ _Just release your spark, Drift, and you can come with us. The Well…it’s everything we believed it would be. Trust us. Everything will be…perfect…_ ” As he spoke, Wing leaned forward, reaching for Drift’s chassis as if to help release his spark…

…when Drift’s sword swung through him, cleaving him in half. Wing shrieked in agony and vanished into the mists. His king and Axe disappeared as well, dissolving with angry wails.

“You cannot fool me, Shade!” Drift shouted into the mist, trying to control his rolling emotions and the flare of his armor. How dare he try to use those who he had lost against him, how dare he desecrate their memory in that way…

 _How dare he._ “Where are you?!”

His sword suddenly flared brightly in the darkness, earning a sudden hiss from the shadows as his magical wards were activated. Whirling around, Drift spotted…something…moving in the mists as he swung his sword towards it. It moved unnaturally, like gravity and friction held no power over it, and his sword passed harmlessly through the mist like the images of his deceased friends.

“I know you are here, Shade!” Drift called out to the mists, crouching into a defensive position. “Show yourself! Or will you hide behind dead mechs?!”

Instead of a response, Drift’s audios picked up something else. “ _…hunt…kill…destroy…_ ” It sounded like a death rattle and he repressed a shudder. He had heard many of those in his time.

“Are you the Shade? Answer me!” He demanded, swinging the sword again.

“ _…destroy…feast…hunger…_ ” was the only response back to his demand. It sounded like there were more voices whispering the haunting words; whatever was there, it was not alone. “ _…hunt…seek…feed…_ ”

“You will destroy nothing.” He spat. His optics picked up more movement around him; more shadows were in the mists, moving just beyond his grasp and taking up the deathly whisper. “I will not allow it.”

He had come to help, but when they tried to fool him with his deceased king and his companions to rip his spark out, it had become personal.

“ _…you…have no…power…here…_ ” one voice said, silencing the chorus of chanting voices. The silence chilled Drift to the bone. “ _We will…feast…on your…spark…_ mortal.” The voice sounded weak and tired, like every word was sapping energy out of it that it didn’t have, but the last word was spoken with great venom.

“Is that what you are then? Glorified sparkeaters?” Drift taunted. Some part of his mind screamed that goading them may not be the best idea, but he ignored it in favor of the battle rush he was getting. “I thought a Lich King haunted these ruins, but it appears I was mistaken. You will be no challenge for me!”

“ _Foolish_!” The voice retorted, rising much louder than it had been before. The other voices joined in, shouting the word in distain. The speaker drifted forward, the white ghost-like form taking on a shape of a tall, powerful mech. Drift’s sword flared brightly again, forcing him back. “ _You…are a fool to come here! The King…will have your…spark…and the sparks of all who dwell here. We will…reclaim what has been…stolen…and the King…will rise…again!_ ”

“Not while I live, he won’t.” Drift growled, narrowing his eyes at the specter in the mists. Black pits stared back at the swordsmech like miniature voids. “I cannot allow him to keep harming these people. You are but shadows and death and you will not win.”

A haunting laugh came from the specter. “ _Try…but you…will fail. Our return…it is inevitable._ ” Before Drift could retort, the specter and his companions disappeared, leaving him alone in the mists.

No, not alone.

Something else was there now.

A sudden weight appeared on him, like something was trying to crush his spark in its case. His sword flared again, but it was weaker than the last time it had protected him as if something was sapping its power. His arms trembled with invisible weights and he was suddenly struggling to breathe or think.

“ ** _Swordsmech from afar_** ,” a new voice, one of deep power and darkness, spoke from the mists around him. Directly ahead of him, Drift saw a core of darkness beginning to form a towering shape. “ ** _Welcome to your death. Your efforts were in vain, and your spark will help give me form._** ”

“Not today, Lich King.” Drift spat, forcing his frame to move against the unseen weight. Though he could not see the King nor had conformation that it was he, Drift knew this had to be him. No other shadow could have so much power; the specters paled in comparison to him. “You were stopped once; I can stop you again.”

Deep laughter echoed all around him. “ ** _It took the armies of thirteen kingdoms to win against me, swordsmech, and even then, they could not stop me. They believed that their precious queen killed me, but,_** ” The shadow from far away suddenly materialized in front of him, but Drift was suddenly unable to move or think at all as roaring fear crashed into his chest. Memories of death, of hopelessness and fear and desolation, of his _past_ , the past he had sworn to forget…they overwhelmed him. “ **I still exist _. And now, I will feast._** ”

He struggled and fought, straining with all of his power to get his frame to move, but he was immobilized, unable to do anything as the Lich King reached for his chassis to pluck his spark out…

A last thought occurred to him, one that brought him a measure of peace. At least he would see his king again, his family and his people…

At least it was something.

_“No!”_

The immobilizing weight on Drift’s frame and his mind was suddenly removed, stunning him for a moment and leaving him vulnerable. The watching specters suddenly launched at him to take advantage of the window he had unintentionally given them. Instincts long honed by battle and training proved their worth as he swung his Great Sword in a wide arc without thought, the blade slicing clean through the Lich King and his specters. An agonized scream erupted from them as they dissolved in a swirl of dark shadows and mist, the loudest from the King. Drift turned to fight them, but then there was a voice, seemingly right next to his audio receptor.

 _“Run! Please, I cannot hold him long…run!_ Flee! _”_

Strangely, he did not question it; sheathing his sword, Drift turned and fled out of the village as quickly as his feet could carry him. There was a time he would have refused to run from a fight, but this was something he could not win against. He could not win against an immortal enemy and he would not die today.

Today, he would flee.

He did not stop until he was safely beyond the village, and only once he saw the other village did he stop to cool down his frame, drawing in large vents of air and falling to his knees.

“ _We will have you soon. Flee, but we will find you._ ” A voice whispered, almost unheard. “ _Flee little swordsmech, flee…_ ”

Drift shook his head as if to clear the voice. The strange feeling of being unable to control himself was gone, something he was grateful for. It had felt to strange, to not be able to command his body. The Lich King was truly powerful, even as a simple shade.

The bizarreness of what had just happened caught up to him. Someone, or something, had just saved his life. Something had held back the power of the Lich King, if only for a moment, and he had been able to flee.

And that voice, the one he heard urging him to leave…it was a femme. He was positive.

Drift frowned. But who would, _could_ , hold the King back? If it was a specter, it wouldn’t make sense; why would one of the King’s servants hold back their ruler? It couldn’t be a specter, and nothing else lived in that place…Well, nothing that he was aware of. Was there another evil there?

The more he thought about it, the less he understood.

He sighed. Perhaps Downshift would know what stayed the hand of the King, or would have an idea about who his mysterious savior was.

Standing up, he said a prayer of thanks to Primus anyway, for whatever miracle or savior He had sent to save his life, and headed for the new village.

Time was of the essence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Okay, so I talked about a double update to people, and I really did try, but with school only four days away and with people needing my help, it just isn't going to happen. That being said, Chapter Three is pretty much written and is just waiting for some TLC, so expect an update soon.
> 
> I really am glad I split this into two chapters; originally, this was only five pages but multiplied into fourteen and a half by the time I was done (and that doesn't count the three pages of stuff I removed before the final edit). It was a huge pain in the butt to write though and it gave me so much grief. But now it's finally finished and the stage is getting set for the drama to come...
> 
> One last thing: I forgot to mention this in my first chapter, but the story quotes that I use for each chapter are inspired by the wonderful work of Vaeru. I completely recommend checking out her work!
> 
> And, like before, if you review and tell me which story of yours you would like me to review, I will go and do so. I am grateful for the reviews I have been given and want to return the favor.
> 
> Hope you're having a great day,  
> ~MM


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